


Never Over

by GraceNM



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e07 Revelations, Episode: s03e10 Amends, Episode: s03e14 Bad Girls, Episode: s03e18 Earshot, F/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-06 04:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceNM/pseuds/GraceNM
Summary: A series of vignettes from Season 3, covering missing scenes or POV from existing scenes. Revelations, Amends, Bad Girls, Earshot and The Prom.





	1. Behold (Revelations)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to requests/suggestions for this. Cross-posting on [Tumblr](https://gracenm.tumblr.com/tagged/season-3-vignettes).

Buffy headed straight for the mansion after parting ways with Faith. The evening’s patrol had done absolutely nothing to vent her hormonal angst. There had been no demons to whale on, and Angel had been on her mind all the while, the dark heat when he looked at her, the fluttery thrill of his skin against hers. And then Faith had actually asked about him, about what it was like to have sex with the undead.

And it killed her. Because she still wanted him. When they were together, every inch of her longed for his touch. But they couldn’t. And they wouldn’t. Not ever again.

She caught herself almost running, needing to see him, to sort out the jumble rising in her chest. She forced herself to slow down, to keep some semblance of calm. But when she got there, she burst through the door, flinging her backpack down dramatically.

Angel wasn’t there.

Fury shot through her. She had this half-formed idea that she’d tell him that they couldn’t do this anymore, that she was done with being confused and aching and having her heart constantly in her throat, and he wasn’t even there to hear it. Her skin felt tight and itchy. She worked open the buttons on her coat and tossed it down on top of her bag near the fireplace.

She whirled around as she heard him enter. He was carrying what looked like a pile of rags but she couldn’t focus on them. He shot her a questioning look, then walked across the room and set the bundle down carefully. She started to follow, but he was already turning and walking back toward her and suddenly they were standing practically toe to toe. Too close. Buffy had to tilt her chin way up to meet his eyes and it made her feel dizzy and flustered. She heard her own noisy breaths in her ears.

“Buffy,” he said. “What is it?”

He placed one big, elegant hand on her nearly bare shoulder, clearly meaning to comfort her, to steady her, but instead it kicked the tangle in her chest into flame. She reached up and pulled him down to her until she could press her mouth against his.

_Oh god oh no oh yes_. Once they had begun, there was no stopping. They reclaimed each other with lips and tongue, more frenzied and desperate than they had ever been. Buffy felt Angel pull her body tight against his, felt his hands begin to slide over her back and waist and hips and it was like some forgotten spring within her bubbled up, something that had been buried and dead since the moment she’d stuck a sword through his chest. She touched his face and his hair, not remembering the feel of him, since she hadn’t forgotten, couldn’t forget, but rejoicing in it.

For a second, she let herself imagine more. Crawling up his body and wrapping her legs around his waist, letting him carry her to the bed — or, hell, the nearest available surface — and crying out as he…

And then she tore herself away, gasping, guilt and shame and fear flooding through her. For just a second, she had forgotten the world. She had murdered her friends.

What was she doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by [Mylie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylie/pseuds/mylie). Thank you!


	2. Comfort, If Not Joy (Amends)

They finally came in from the snow-drifted streets when Buffy’s shivering got so intense that Angel insisted. He went to light the fire while she called her mother. He tried not to listen as she murmured things like, “shouldn’t be left alone right now” and “I know it’s Christmas, but.”

He had made up his mind to ask her to go when she came padding toward him in stocking feet, her perfect sweet Buffy nose still red from the cold, carrying two mugs of tea. 

Then his chest squeezed and he couldn’t speak. After everything, he couldn’t be worthy of this cozy domestic scene, on Christmas no less. She should be disgusted with him. Instead her eyes glowed like the streetlamps on the new-fallen snow.

She handed him a steaming mug and sat next to him. He could practically feel her limbs thawing out, her skin growing rosy from the heat of the fire. Still he didn’t speak. The stress and horror of the last few days was fading a little and it left him weary. After some time had passed, a few minutes, a lifetime, he heard Buffy yawn beside him. Then she was setting their unsipped tea aside and leading him by the hand toward his bedroom, pausing only to let him tend to the fireplace.

Deep in his mind, the siren and flashing lights of danger began, but the feeling in his gut was steady. It would be OK.

“Pajama time,” she said sternly when they reached his room.

He didn’t usually sleep in clothing, but he put on a T-shirt and sweats in the bathroom. She had pulled back the covers on his bed and he submitted with a little amusement to being tucked in. God, she had his heart. She had burrowed deep into every bit of him.

She stood over the bed, her face thoughtful.

“Angel, we can’t…”

His mind filled in the rest of the sentence, remembering the silky feel of her skin under his fingers in their shared dream. He closed his eyes, willing the thought away.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort in me.”

He looked at her, choked with love, as she lifted the covers and slid in next to him, still fully dressed. He let her pull him close, until his head was resting against her chest, her fingers running tenderly through his hair.

He couldn’t pretend his body didn’t respond to her, to the smell of her, to the chorus of her blood in its veins, and again he had to push away that vivid, delicious, terrifying nightmare. But once that was done, once he’d tamped it all down, he felt his body slowly unknot as he found a whisper of peace.

He wanted to stay awake, stay on his guard, but the sound of her heart thumping next to his ear was so insistent and so soothing that he lost his grip and slipped toward sleep.

 _I love you_ , he thought without being able to say it. And he knew that no freak snowstorm — even the unlife-saving kind — could ever be the miracle that she was.


	3. Bad Girl (Bad Girls)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to up the rating to mature, though there's no actual smut. Obviously, all dialogue in this chapter comes from the episode Bad Girls.

Buffy is dancing. His eyes immediately latch onto her in the middle of the floor, moving with Faith like twin flames, surrounded by a clump of guys who are begging to be burned. 

The two slayers sway hypnotically to the music, attracting the attention of what feels like the entire room. The way Buffy’s hips are moving…Angel has to swallow hard.

He sees her head swivel toward him. Of course she has sensed his gaze. A shiver travels between them, despite the distance, and he instantly turns away, not wanting her to see the jealousy in his face, the naked hungry want in his eyes. He is attempting to get himself under control when suddenly his arms are full of her. She has jumped up and wrapped herself around him, all swinging golden hair and supple limbs and delicious, forbidden warmth. He laces his hands at the small of her back, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to cup her pert little ass in his palms. She is pressed tight against him, the heat between her thighs scorching his abdomen through his shirt.

She, in marked contrast to him, does not bother to hide the naked hungry want in her eyes. She is breaking all the rules tonight. A provocative public display of affection like this? It will make people nervous. People like Willow and Giles and Xander. And, hell, this is beyond _affection_.

He keeps his face impassive, a mask. He wants her so badly and she is rubbing his — everything — in it. But he can’t call her on it. He has no right, not after all he’s done to her. All he’s asked of her. He has no right to call her on anything. But—

“I saw you making friends,” he answers when she asks coyly if he’s leaving, his jealousy leaking out despite himself. If he were any other guy, she could go home with him, he could peel off her clothes, they could…and their only worry would be…what? Not an apocalypse, that’s for sure.

How long would it be before she realized he was holding her back from everything she could have? Everything she should have.

“Them?” she says dismissively, looking back at the guys who have closed in around Faith. “Boys. I like you.”

She leans her face toward his and gives him her most adorable smile. But her eyes are not being adorable. Her eyes say, _Carry me to some dark little corner and I’ll show you just how much I like you_.

He is nearly overwhelmed with want for her. She has a fresh cut on her arm, and the smell of her blood and sweat and arousal has taken him to a desperate, fumbling place. He clings hard to his stony expression and pulls his hands apart. She takes the hint, hopping to the ground.

“What’s the matter?” she flirts. “You’re not afraid of little me, are you?”

And he’s faced death and hell and loneliness, but nothing has ever scared him more than she does. His need for Buffy goes beyond even his bloodlust. And of course he begins to wonder…Would it be so bad? To risk it just this once? It can’t be perfect happiness if he knows the consequences, can it?

He is becoming a monster again.

Why did he even come here?

Then he remembers Balthazar. Right. People need saving. Almost as much as he does.

“We better sit down. Come on.”

He leads her by the hand, unable to break contact completely. The dark corners are beckoning, but he aims for one that’s reasonably well-lit.

“I can sense this is a business trip,” she says, but she’s still using her body against him. She snuggles close as he begins to explain about the demon, her hand moving way too close to his groin, her breasts pressing against him. He jumps up to sit across from her.

At last, his reluctance seems to have gotten through and she focuses on the latest monster instead of driving him crazy with lust.

He is worried about her now, about her willingness to play on the knife’s edge tonight. After they have secured the amulet from the silly new Watcher in town and agreed on a plan, he warns her to be careful.

She has a question in her eyes and he feels the need to reassure her. He tries to tell her with a kiss that it’s not that he doesn’t want her, it’s just…the way things are.

He hopes she understands. Because he sure as hell can’t.


	4. Afterwords (Earshot)

"Oh, good, you're home." Buffy's mom practically pounced on her as soon as she opened the front door. Buffy held back a sigh. She was drained from her nearly fatal experience as a mind-reader, her confrontation with Jonathan, and especially the pop quiz in her seventh-period government class. How could anyone be expected to name all nine Supreme Court justices?

Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Sandra Day Lewis, Clarence Thomas (ew), the chief guy, the ice cream one...She should at least get half-credit for effort, right?

"Buffy?" her mom's voice broke through. "Are you hearing voices again?"

"Nope."  Buffy smiled her most reassuring smile. "No one in here but a bunch of old people in robes."

"What?" Joyce's brow creased.

"Never mind. Just school stuff."

"You're feeling OK, though?"

"All back to normal. Four out of five doctors recommend the healing powers of a demon heart smoothie."

Joyce wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry you had to drink the heart of a demon, sweetie."

Buffy shrugged. "I'm just glad Angel was around to pick up my prescription."

"He saved your life," Joyce said, her eyes going soft. "The look on his face..."

Buffy felt herself growing pink. It gave her a little rush to think of Angel's devotion being so clear that even her mother noticed.  _In 243 years, I've loved exactly one person_ , he'd said. 

But talking to her parental figure about her boyfriend was still in avoid-at-all-costs territory, especially after everything that went down last year.

"We should have him to dinner," Joyce said with sudden determination. "As a thank you."

Buffy could just imagine that. All three of them sitting around the table, with Angel busting out his gone a-courting small talk from the Middle Ages and Joyce asking well-meaning but intrusive questions about his sleeping and eating habits. Knowing her mom, she'd serve some dish with a lot of garlic and then freak.

Buffy shrugged. "He doesn't really eat, Mom." 

"OK, so no dinner. But I feel like I should know him better. It seems like he's...back in your life again."

"There's no need to be worried," Buffy said defensively. "He's not going to go bad."

"Why keep him hidden, then?"

"I'm not. Really. He comes over sometimes. You've seen him."

"Well, he did notice when I got highlights."

"See? So no hiding."

"I don't know, Buffy. I'm still not completely at ease with...all of this."

"And you think I'm at ease knowing about you and my Watcher?!" Buffy said, playing her trump card.

Joyce made a face. "We'll talk about this later," she said, fleeing upstairs.

***

"My mom thinks she needs to get to know you more. Like, that you should come over for dinner or something." 

Angel had insisted on patrolling with her, even though she felt fine. Not that she was going to object.

"If you'd like, I could—"

"I know, I know, you'll put on your Sunday best and sit in the parlor."

Angel smiled at her. "That's not the kind of thing I tended to do in my day, Buffy."

"Yeah, you and your bad girls. I've heard aaaall about them,” she said. But she smiled back at him, and Angel pulled her in for a kiss that lingered just a little longer than usual. She let her head rest on his chest.

"I was worried about you," he murmured into her hair.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "So I heard. That was what seemed to earn you the dinner invite from Mom. Well, that and the saving my life part." She tilted her face up. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Don't mention it," Angel said softly, brushing his fingers over her cheek.

"I won't say a word," Buffy breathed. And this time their kisses lingered a lot longer than usual. But eventually they forced themselves to keep moving.

"Are you saying you don't want me to spend time with your mother?" Angel asked out of the blue.

"No, of course not. It’s just—wouldn't that be a drag for you?"

"I might not be a people person, but we do have some things in common. I know a little bit about art. And we both love you."

Buffy smiled, but she knew it was bordering on the thin. "I guess I just worry about what she'll say, you know? Last year was...pretty intense."

"Is that what's on your mind? I wondered, after our talk about Faith."

"What do you mean?"

"I wondered if maybe we needed to talk about it...what happened before," Angel said as he stopped walking. "I know it was difficult...to see me like that again."

Buffy was surprised that tears were pricking at her eyes.

"Buffy," he said, taking her arm and guiding her to a bench. She sat down and looked up to keep the tears from falling as he settled next to her.

"This is hard," she said. She couldn't look at him.

"I understand. Take it slow."

She waited until she thought her voice would be reasonably steady. "I guess...it was...you were so convincing."

"I scared you?"

"Not like 'scared' scared. But it seemed easy...for you to pretend."

Angel's voice was quiet. "So you worried that it might not be an act. That—that's how I really am, and this is the act."

"It sounds so awful when you say it like that. I know that's not true. But there were...some things....you said to me."

"And you think that might be how I really feel?" Angel took a deep breath. "Nothing could be further from the truth.  Without my soul, I hated what I felt for you. Anything I said then, it was just to hurt you."

"Even...even before I knew your soul was gone?" 

He had to remember it, that day in his apartment, when he'd ripped her heart out and smiled.

Angel touched her chin and made her look at him. "Especially then. It was pure cruelty. You have to know that on some level. That night...the way you made me feel...It was incredible. It's never been like that before...for me." He looked down, away from her. "I'm only sorry that all it brought you was pain."

"No." She leaned into him, hugging him close. "Don't say that."

"But it's true. I can’t seem to stop hurting you."

She shook her head. “You literally saved my life today. Angel, you can’t only count the bad stuff and leave out the good stuff.”

“All I did was kill a demon. You do that every day.”

“It’s my job. You did it out of love.”

“I think you do your job out of love, Buffy. The world is lucky to have you.”

Her face darkened. “Maybe too lucky.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“I chose the world. I sent you to hell for a hundred years.” Her throat felt like it was swelling closed. “You’ve never even mentioned it.”

“Because you did the right thing.”

“How can you just accept it? I saw what it did to you. What  _I_  did to you."

"I deserved that and worse. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "You know, I really didn't like the idea of you reading my mind. There's still a demon in me, and my mind is not a pleasant place to be. But now part of me wishes you could, just so you could know."

Buffy smiled a little. "Mind-reading isn't all it's cracked up to be." She tilted her head and looked deeply into his eyes. "I'll just have to take your word for it."

Angel looked grim. "You also need to take my word that there's a fire demon right behind you," he said, low and steady.

They swung into action.

When all was done and dusted, Buffy took Angel's hand and led him out of the cemetery. It had been an extra-long day, and she was tired.

"Maybe tomorrow, you could come over for a bit?" she said. "We can spend a little time with my mom?"

He nodded and squeezed her hand. "And then after, we can go down to the beach. Where there's one fire demon, there's bound to be a nest. They like to soak in salt water when they're not in flame."

"How romantic." Buffy laughed. "It's a date."


	5. Last Dance (The Prom)

When the DJ announced the last song, Buffy tugged Angel away from the dance floor. She didn’t want to be there when the lights came up and the magic ended. Her friends might try to make awkward small talk as they all went their separate ways, or even just catch her eye to offer sympathetic little smiles. And she didn’t want to be like those silly couples in stories, the ones who keep dancing when the music ends, unaware of the world around them, clinging to something that is clearly over.

Angel allowed himself to be pulled along without asking any questions. She was glad. She didn’t want to cajole or explain. She just wanted the night to go on.

She had finally gotten her perfect high school moment. And like every other time in her life that she’d gotten what she wanted — a passing grade on the math test, the cute shoes at the mall, the new personal best for vamps dusted in one night — she found that she couldn’t stop herself from starting to want something else.

What was one perfect high school moment when measured against a million moments in the life with Angel that she was losing?

She knew he couldn’t stay forever. A traitorous little part of her was even excited about starting college as a single girl and opening herself up to new people, new places, new ideas. She had told Angel she couldn’t change. Maybe she would be proven wrong about that.

But when she looked at him, she felt fear flood through her. He was leaving her, and she didn’t know how she was going to make it through the endless nights of patrol without his kisses to punctuate them, without his sympathetic ear, his backup. She was losing the one freaky thing in her whole freaky world that had somehow always made sense — even when it didn’t, even now — and it wasn’t fair. What if she never felt this way again? _Could_ she ever feel this way again?

If this was the last she would get of him, she had to make it count.

She shivered as she led him out of the school into the night. His tuxedo jacket slid over her shoulders in an instant, just as she’d known it would. He felt terrible and he wanted to give her what he could. She felt greedy for him, wanting to soak up his scent, feel his touch.

She thought if she didn’t move too fast and spook him, maybe he would kiss her. She deserved that at least, didn’t she? One last kiss, now that she knew it was goodbye?

For a panicky moment, she couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed her. But then it came to her: a quick kiss of greeting before patrol in her soft new purple sweater. The one that used to remind her of prom dress shopping with Willow and now stank of sewer and “I don’t.”

Their last kiss had been just a casual nothing, something she could expect every day for the rest of her life, back when her life was going to be with him.

She couldn’t help it — she let out a soft little gasp of pain at the thought. He stopped, put his hand on her shoulder and she turned right into his chest.

And then he was kissing her again, kissing her with an abandon that she hadn’t felt from him since the first time their lips met after he came back from hell. She held nothing back, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him as close as she could. His jacket slipped from her shoulders to the ground with a silky whisper. His hands were clutching her desperately and her cheeks were wet with tears that she wasn’t sure were hers. There was nothing else in the world but him and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe.

He pulled away suddenly, as if he had just woken gasping from a dream. She stared into his eyes, open-mouthed, panting, and wiped at her cheeks.

“Buffy,” he said, and drew her to him again. She didn’t resist.

Maybe this would make it hurt worse in the end. But she could feel it, her broken heart beating hard enough for both of them, and she couldn’t bear to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to send me suggestions/prompts for more of these [on Tumblr](https://gracenm.tumblr.com/). I'm open to other seasons as well!


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